Vibrant Standstill
by clearchrysanthe
Summary: Slowly, but surely, the grayscale landscape and reveries of a sky-eyed American will be suffused with color, never to regress to its former, bleak state that he resented to a terrifying degree. Tears will no longer be shed, and Arthur, passionate and determined, will exert as much effort as needed to console and support him, perhaps make life a little better for Al. —/If/ he could.


_He can only contain so much._

Even though he wore a smile that glimmered enough to fool everyone else surrounding him, I, for one, knew he was breaking. That heart of his that once rattled with confidence had been reduced to slow yet harsh thumps against his ribcage. This man's pride had been crushed to a supreme degree, his identity— vanquished without mercy. Child of the sun, admirer of the moon... why must you pretend to be someone that you aren't?

Truth be told, the moment I first saw you, _I fell in love._ I know in my nonexistent heart that, well, that's what it was. It's neither a fleeting crush nor a bout of infatuation- no, absolutely none of those. This silly feeling filled me with glee at the mere sight of you and had supplied me with dreams and desire I never once knew. Although I'm most certain that no matter how much I had wished for it, it would be futile.

As cliche as it seems, there was much more to you than your summery demeanor— your youthful mirth, that ageless beauty as well as that adonis form that the higher beings have blessed you with. More than meets the eye, they say, and I firmly believe that was... _is_ the case with you.

At morn, you drag yourself from the sheets, force yourself to rouse and get dressed. Ah... what a monochrome ensemble. I would comment that you'd look far better in resplendent, vivid-coloured garments, but this society constricts you. This lifestyle you've chosen traps you in an endless, repetitive void. For what reason? To sustain yourself?

...And your dreams? Is this not the time to be chasing after them? I cannot bring myself to understand. To query. The ability to do so was out of my reach, after all.

At night, once you've hurdled through several obstacles that your dreg of a profession slings at you, you _sigh._ You pause. Exhaustion is as clear as daylight on your tawny visage, dark circles having crept up beneath your eyes, remaining there quite like the informal settlers that they are after the sheer amount of stress you constantly battle with. Must you suffer this way? Must you continue to tire yourself out up until every single bit of your life force, personality and creativity had been drained out of your system? This isn't what you've been expecting, but should you be surprised? You've chosen this path. The only person capable of tugging you out of this dilemma is yourself.

 _As much as I... wish to lend a hand, it just isn't possible._

As much as I... wish to embrace you— to hold you against me as I tell you 'it's going to be alright, poppet', I cannot. As much as I wish to enlighten you of your circumstances and provide some sort of insight, I simply can't. Curse my bloody limitations. Curse my unmoving body. Curse my musings and voiceless thoughts…

 **"Good night, Arthur,"** The man before me utters out, his voice somewhat hoarse and languid. He offers me his moment, a weary gaze longing for an escape as well as both sympathy and company… and then he averts those sweet blues of his, swiveling on his heel as he strode for his cushioned retreat. _Good night, golden one,_ a whisper in my thoughts had resounded, only to be once again left unheard by its recipient. Said recipient manages a side glance toward my direction, a slight smile unfurling upon his semi-chapped lips before he'd gone to retire underneath the warm, comforting sheets.

Comforting as it was, it failed to provide him with relaxation and contentment. I could see that, without a doubt, the sheets had trembled upon its concealed owner. Why must you and I suffer? It was one of those nights- a torturous endeavor that I have to tolerate due to my lack of capacity. How excruciating— frustrating and immensely troubling. _It pains me so, my wonderboy. Seeing you in this manner and knowing that I cannot rush to your aid is none but dispiriting._ Subtle and almost inaudible sniffs and sobs reverberated throughout the disheveled one-room apartment and…

 _Oh, Almighty. Grant me this one wish... This wish to be free of restraints— this wish that would allow me to deliver solace to the man I love. I've asked you this a thousand- no, a million times, and again, I ask of you to bestow upon me your blessing. Grant me my sought-after miracle…_

 _Please._ _ **I beg of you.**_


End file.
